It's Therapeutic
by AGrayCat
Summary: 2D's gone a little psycho, and Paula might just get murdered. But don't worry; it's therapeutic. Phase 5.
1. Chapter 1

Paula cracker groaned. An ear-splitting headache was pounding through her skull; it felt as if she had been decked by a car.

Speaking of cars…

She heard the steady roar of an engine and felt a leather seat vibrating beneath her. _What the heck?_ Paula thought as she opened her eyes, blinking confusedly.

An empty highway raced by on the other side of a tinted window. The solemn grays of the road blended in with the smoky gray storm clouds lacing the sky. There was a flash of light; thunder sounded.

Paula felt a growl rising in her throat. She pulled at her arms to find that they had been tied securely behind her back; she could feel the coarse rope digging into her wrists. Looking down, she saw that her ankles were similarly tied. Paula turned to stare angrily at the back of the driver's seat. She could see a few strands of spiky hair silhouetted over the headrest.

"Hey, what gives?" Paula shouted furiously. "Why am I all tied up? Where are you taking me?"

"Oh, you're awake," a vaguely familiar cockney accent piped up from the driver's seat.

Paula turned her head as an eerie chuckle sounded from the passenger's seat. "Oh, now the fun _really_ begins!" An unfamiliar voice cackled.

"It's not _fun,_ it's _therapeutic_." The cockney insisted.

The front passenger turned to look at the captive in the backseat. Paula saw slicked hair and sunglasses, sickly green skin, a pointed nose, and a fang-toothed grin. "I apologize. Please, Paula Cracker, allow me to welcome you to 2D's therapy."

Paula gasped, peering back at the silhouetted spiky hair, recalling how she recognized the first voice. " _Stuart?"_

"It's 2D now, actually," the man said in a light, conversational tone. "Nobody really calls me Stuart anymore."

"Stuart, what is the meaning of this?" Paula shouted angrily. "This is _kidnapping!"_

"No, it's _therapy_." 2D responded with a longsuffering sigh.

" _Therapy?_ What kind of _therapy_ involves tying up your ex in the back of your car?" Paula hollered.

2D rolled his eyes, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.

"Are you going to tell her?" the front passenger questioned 2D excitedly. "I _love_ hearing the story!"

"Well, my therapist did say it was good for me to talk through my experiences," 2D said thoughtfully. "I guess I could run through it one more time."

The front passenger chuckled with glee, rubbing his hands together excitedly. Paula saw movement in the rearview mirror; she looked up to see jet black eyes watching her through the reflection. Paula glared at her ex. _Stupid idiot…_ she was struck by a sudden idea.

"Hey, do you think you could untie my hands?" Paula cooed sweetly. "It might help me listen better."

"Hmmm…" 2D hummed. "No. It doesn't actually matter if you're listening. This is about me."

Paula snarled angrily, pulling at her hands, trying to tug the ropes away. "How'd an idiot like you manage to pull off a kidnapping anyway?" she barked.

"Ace helped me," 2D said, turning slightly to nod at the front passenger.

"Most fun idea he's had in weeks!" Ace responded, raising a hand and receiving a high five from the blue-haired driver.

Paula glared daggers at Ace, who only smiled wider. "Whatever. Make with the story. There had better be a good reason behind all of this," Paula muttered.

2D hissed in a deep breath…

"Okay, here's the story.

"So I was talking with my therapist, 'cause Murdoc was always telling me before he got arrested that I needed to get my head checked. It was great advice; my therapist is one of the nicest people I know. Always listens to me. Anyway, I was talking about all of the things that were stressing me out, like thinking about whales, and Murdoc being in jail, and my agent who say's I'm too thick to talk business with, even though my doctor says I'm quite thin, and I keep finding these pictures of whales Murdoc hid around the house before he went to jail-"

"On with the story!" Ace cried.

"Yeah, so, my therapist - her name is Ms. Valley, by the way, lovely woman - told me that I should practice clearing my mind of worries, and she said that a good thing to do would be to take some time to just focus on myself."

"Okay," Paula hissed. "You're taking time to focus on yourself. So… WHY AM I HERE?"

"So then I was talking to Russel," 2D continued, "I was telling him about how Ms. Valley said I needed to focus on myself, and I told him that I had an idea about maybe making an album about how I feel, right now. I was telling him about my ideas, and he said some of them were sort of good, but he told me that if I really wanted to make this album work, I had to learn to be in the now, _now._ And he told me to take everything from my past and let go. He really stressed that I need to _let go._ "

"Alright," Paula assented. "Then _let go of me!"_

"Wait, I'm not finished," 2D said. Ace hummed evilly.

"So I went to ask Noodle what she thought, 'cause she's pretty smart. She was ignoring me, though, 'cause I accidentally stepped on her cat that morning. I apologized to Katsu right after it happened, but he scratched me, so I went back later to offer him a really sincere apology with chocolate, but he just scratched me again, and bit, and-"

" _On with the story!"_ Paula and Ace shouted together.

"Right… so… Noodle was in the kitchen, but she wasn't talking to me. She was eating a Clif Bar, though. And then I saw a box of saltine crackers on the table. Noodle had always taught me to pay attention to signs, so I knew what I had to do."

Ace was barely holding in his laughter, huffing silently, ominously. Paula tilted her head, confused. "And what exactly is it that you have to do?"

"I have to let you go. Off a cliff."

Ace's laughter echoed loudly through the interior of the car.

. . .

 **I know that I'm supposed to be working on my other story right now, but when this idea hit, I couldn't resist. If you like it, review! And stay tuned for part 2!**


	2. Chapter 2

"Take this exit," Ace ordered.

As the car turned, Paula fell sideways, unable to use her hands to hold herself up. "You're crazy! You're both crazy!" she spat.

"Ms. Valley doesn't think I'm crazy," 2D huffed. "She says I'm just different. Unique. Special, even. I can't speak for Ace, though."

"I think 'crazy' just about sums it up!" the green man cackled shamelessly.

"I'm sick of being trapped like this!" Paula cried.

"You know, I felt trapped too, especially just after Plastic Beach," 2D commented. "Getting a therapist really helped. Maybe you should get one too."

He said those words so calmly, so innocently; it almost sounded as if he were a friend giving her advice rather than a madman planning to push her off a cliff.

"How am I supposed to find a therapist at _the bottom of a cliff?"_ Paula screamed.

2D tilted his head thoughtfully, then nodded. "That's a fair point. Well… I guess you won't need a therapist anymore soon enough. I think we're almost there."

The exit took the car through a patch of thick, dark woods. Paula could feel the road sloping beneath them, tilting upwards, lifting them to higher ground. They emerged into a grassy clearing. The road wound around the edge of the woods, but instead of following the tarmac path, 2D went off-road. The car jolted and bumped as it pushed through the tall grass.

 _Tap… tap, tap…_ raindrops pattered against the windshield.

Paula could feel the car brake, shuddering as it came to a stop. The ignition cut. Car doors clicked open, slammed close. The door to the backseat opened.

"On your feet," Instructed Ace with a grin.

Paula glowered at him, saying nothing, refusing to move.

Ace shrugged. "Have it your way, then." He turned and walked away. Paula lay there for a moment, confused, before 2D appeared in the open doorway. He reached behind her; Paula squeaked as he yanked on her bound wrists. The woman thrashed and kicked desperately as he dragged her out of the car.

"Do you realize what you're doing?" Paula cried as she fell onto the soft ground, cold raindrops instantly soaking her back and her hair. "This is murder!"

"What? No! I would never kill anybody!" 2D protested, his face the picture of shock and sincerity. "This is just a symbolic act, you know, like a ceremony, to help me let go of the past. I'm moving on."

 _This man's insane,_ Paula thought. _He truly doesn't think of this as murder! He's not thinking about what this means for me; he's too concerned with his own dumb therapy!_

The man yanked her to her feet. He pushed her forward, forcing her to shuffle on her tightly bound ankles in the direction he had chosen, away from the road, up a small hill. Paula gritted her teeth as rain cascaded down her face. She jumped as a violent flash of lightning lit the sky, followed by an earth-shaking boom of thunder. Paula became aware of another noise, a swishy, wavelike noise, coming from just over the hill they were approaching. She felt an icy chill roll down her spine which had nothing to do with the storm.

"Good therapy doesn't end in death, Stuart!" Paula insisted.

"Don't think of it as an end," 2D soothed. "Ms. Valley said to look for beginnings each day. I'm turning over a new beginning. This is, like, a new leaf for me."

" _What about me?"_

"Paula," 2D said sternly, "It's important to support others when they're receiving therapy, especially when they're trying to start over and become a better person. Noodle and Russel both support me with my therapy. You should do the same."

Paula's heart was racing; nothing she said was getting through to him! It was like the man was deaf to sense!

Paula's legs shook as he pushed her up to the top of the hill. She found herself looking down, down over the edge of the grass, where the ground dropped sharply away. Her toe hit a small rock which flew over the edge, falling, racing alongside the sheer rock wall before vanishing into a raging sea. Paula could see strong waves beating against the cliffside. She felt her eyes burn. Warm, salty tears joined the frigid raindrops running down her face.

"Th-this is crazy!" Paula stammered frantically. Her breath caught in her throat as hot, moist air puffed against the back of her neck; her skin prickled into goosebumps as 2D's nose ran through her har, stopping just above her ear. Soft lips grazed her earlobe as a whisper hissed through the passages of her mind.

"It's not _crazy._ It's _therapeutic_."

He pushed her.

Paula screamed as she fell.

. . .

Ace approached 2D, joining him at the edge of the cliff. Together, they watched as the screaming woman plummeted down, down towards the rocky, unforgiving ground-

Three streaks of light cut across their vision. Green, pink, blue. The flying beams intercepted Paula's plight, and she disappeared as the beams of light flew off into the horizon.

2D sighed sadly. Ace kicked a nearby rock, grumbling.

"Should've known they'd show up to save the day. Blasted PowerPuff Girls."

"Oh well," 2D responded. "At least I got to push her off a cliff. It did feel very liberating. But… I'm not sure that I've quite put the past behind me yet."

Ace patted his shoulder sympathetically. "Next time, you're on your own. As much as I love to see a good revenge-driven attack, those three will always show up if I'm around."

2D grimaced with annoyance. "It's not revenge-driven, it's _therapeutic_."

"Yeah, whatever you say, 'D," Ace said as he turned back towards the car. "Just remember to tell me how things go down when you finish your _therapy._ "

. . .

 **So, I was going to leave this as a two-shot, but I've been thinking… What if I updated this whenever I got a new Idea for 2D to try some more 'therapy?' Anyone interested in reading about psycho-killer 2D finding new ways to murder his ex?**


	3. Chapter 3

**2D's Second Attempt at Murder, Part 1**

 **Disclaimer: Gorillaz ain't mine.**

"I heard that Muds drowned in sewage last week," Russel commented as he folded his arms behind his head. A flimsy, fold-out beach chair creaked pitifully under his weight as he shifted under the glowing sun.

2D gazed at the blue ocean waves as they crashed upon the shore. He was sitting beside the drummer, cross-legged on a sandy white beach blanket with the phrase "Save Us From Him" printed in bold, black letters. He wore a pair of magenta, flower-patterned swim trunks, while Russel was wearing deep green trunks and a Hawaiian shirt. A pleasant breeze ruffled the singer's cerulean locks of hair. A few meters away, Ace (wearing a tank top and trunks) eyed some distant volleyball players, twirling a pocketknife in his hand.

The band (Minus Noodle, who was trekking through the mountains, and Murdoc, who was in jail) had recently finished the European leg of their summer tour and had decided to take a small vacation at Blackpool Sands before leaving for America. It was a pleasant day, cloudless and warm with a playful breeze. The beach itself was neither crowded nor deserted. There were enough beachgoers to fill the air with the pleasant sounds of chatter and laughter, but not so much that the band were denied a fair amount of privacy.

2D brushed some stray hairs out of his face before responding to Russel. "I think I heard some fans talking about that. It sounded like they helped him get drowned, but they didn't seem very happy about it. He must be all right, though, since the fans said they would be speaking with him again soon. Or maybe they'll have to speak with his ghost… Hey, Russ, do you think Murdoc would haunt me?"

"Nah, he'd rather haunt women. Besides, it's probably just a silly rumor. The prison hasn't confirmed anything."

2D nodded slowly, not sure whether to feel consoled or concerned. After a few moments of intense thought, 2D decided that he didn't have to feel consoled or concerned. Heck, he could feel however he wanted!

Since Murdoc's disappearance, 2D had gained a lot of emotional confidence. Admittedly, he was a bit cocky nowadays, as scatterbrained as ever, and frequently annoying to his bandmates, but overall, he seemed to be doing very well. 2D smiled, unfolding his legs and leaning back onto his beach towel. He didn't want to think about Murdoc right now, and he wouldn't. He was going to relax.

Spotting Ace still standing stiffly nearby, 2D called, "Hey, Ace! Do you think you could grab me a soda from the drink stand?"

Ace grunted then walked away. 2D watched him stroll past the drink stand and approach the volleyball court, knife in hand. _Oh well,_ 2D thought. _He must not have heard me._ 2D then turned to Russel.

"Hey, Russ-"

"No."

2D pouted for a moment, then shrugged to himself. _Still better company than Murdoc,_ he thought, a grin returning to his face. Stretching his limbs, the singer rolled to his feet. 2D slipped on a pair of flip-flops and began to stroll towards the drink stand.

Halfway there, 2D realized that he had forgotten to grab change. Spotting a young woman holding two grape sodas about to walk past him, 2D called out to her, "Hey! Can I have one of those?"

"Oh, one of these is for my frien-" The woman turned to face him, then stopped mid-sentence, her eyes widening. "You- you're 2D, from Gorillaz!"

"Yep," 2D responded, smiling for the woman.

"Of course! Here," She exclaimed, handing him a soda. 2D accepted the drink gratefully, popped the can open, and took a long drink, savoring the fruity fizz as it washed over his tongue. Licking his lips with pleasure, 2D returned his gaze to the woman. "So, you're a fan?"

"Yes!" She replied ecstatically. "I was at the Demon Days festival in London! You were great!"

"Thanks," 2D said, beaming.

"Do you think you'll release another album next year?" The woman asked, her face lit with curiosity. "I know you've already done more than you usually do before taking a really long break, but I would really love it if you could keep putting out more music!"

2D sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Wish I could tell you. Thing is, I don't know if Murdoc's coming back, and if he does come back, he won't let me do what I want anymore."

The woman nodded sympathetically. "Aw, that's too bad. Do you think you could convince him to share control of the band with you? You could ask Russel and Noodle to support you! They could help make your case!"

2D tilted his head to the side, confused. "I don't need them to make me a case. I already have a really good suitcase, it's blue with black and white flowers painted all over it-"

"No, I mean… Couldn't you guys stand up to him?"

"When I stand up, it makes it easier for him to pull my pants down."

The woman paused, thinking deeply about the clearest possible way to say what she had in mind. "Do you think, if you told Murdoc that you should lead the band, and Russel and Noodle also told Murdoc you should lead the band, and you had really good reasons for you to be leader, that Murdoc might also decide that you should at least help lead the band?"

2D pondered this sentence. It was a long one, but he thought he had the basic idea. "Well, Murdoc doesn't really change his mind, especially when people tell him to change his mind. Besides, it would be weird to lead Murdoc. That's never how we've worked. It's always been Murdoc who takes charge of things. When he's around, anyway."

"That was the past, though!" The woman insisted, gazing intensely at 2D. "You're so much happier now. And isn't that a part of what the Now Now is about, what's happening _now?_ " The woman took a breath, steadying her voice. "My mother always told me that when you know that what you have is good, you need to bury your past. Bury your past and never go back. That's the only way to move forward."

2D stared down at the woman, impressed by her advice. It sounded very wise, even if he didn't quite understand it. _How do you even bury a past? Is there a special way to put the past in a deep hole and cover it up? Is there a graveyard for pasts?_

"Hey, Anna!" a voice called from the shore. "Where's my Soda?"

The woman's eyes widened. Turning, she called back to her waving friend, "I'm coming! Be there in a sec!" She turned back to 2D. "Sorry, I gotta go buy another soda for my friend. But it was nice talking to you! Remember what I said! I wrote my number on your arm while you were thinking earlier! Call me! Bye!" And then, she was gone.

2D checked his arm. Sure enough, it was covered in fresh ink. Shrugging to himself and smiling, 2D took a sip of his soda and began walking back towards his friend.

2D found Russel talking towards his phone, apparently FaceTiming someone. As he stood over Russel's shoulder, the singer saw a familiar face on the screen, framed by a thick, fuzzy winter coat hood. Snow was falling in the background of the shot.

2D smiled. "Oh, hi Noodle!"

Noodle glanced towards him, her face dipping into a scowl. She said nothing.

"Sorry, man," Russel told 2D. "She doesn't want to talk to you yet."

2D frowned. "Is this still about that vase I broke before she left?"

Russel rolled his eyes. "What do you think? Do you have any idea how valuable that thing was?"

"But I told you I'd buy you a new vase!" 2D cried, turning back to Noodle. "Wouldn't you like something newer? You said yourself that the vase was super old!"

" _Old?"_ Noodle shouted through the phone. "It was _Ancient!_ It was _Ming!"_

"Oh, you named it Ming?" 2D said, his eyes widening with a flash of understanding. "I think I get it now. You must have been really attached to it, to give it a name. Did I tell you that I used to have a sea cucumber named Peter? Murdoc said he was trash, but I still loved him. I'm sorry for insulting Ming and killing him. Or is Ming a her?"

Noodle glared at 2D then turned back to Russel. "As I was saying before we were interrupted, I did get lost for a while, but I'm doing fine now. My new friends told me that if I follow the signs, the tall wooden ones, they'll lead me to a town where I can pick up more supplies before continuing my journey."

"Ok, babygirl," Russel said. "I'm glad your doing well. Stay safe." The two exchanged goodbyes and the call ended.

2D sighed sadly. He really did feel bad for breaking Ming. Also, he had wanted to ask Noodle what she thought about the advice his fan had given to him. Noodle was good at understanding things; she would have known what the cryptic message meant.

2D turned to Russel. "Hey, Russ, do you think I should bury my past?"

Russel leaned back in his chair, his eyes closing. "Sure, 'D."

"Thing is," 2D continued, "I'm not really sure what that means. You know, to bury your past."

"Mmhmm," Russel replied.

"Is the past… like… a thing? Do I have to figure out what it is, then stick it in a hole and bury it?"

"hmm."

"But what kind of thing is it?"

There was no response.

2D turned to look at Russel. The drummer was asleep.

"Oh well," 2D sighed to himself. "I guess I can go ask Ace for advice."

2D turned towards the volleyball players he had seen Ace approaching earlier. They had formed a ring around the bassist, and a very large, muscular man was angrily brandishing a deflated volleyball in Ace's face.

 _Hmm… Maybe I should leave them alone._

2D bowed his head sadly. Being alone was nice when he was having fun, but now, he could really use some help. 2D sat on his beach towel, wrapped his hands around his knees, and stared at the ground.

A sharp cry roused the singer from his brooding thoughts. Looking up quickly, 2D observed a child, shrieking with joy, running to meet a man who appeared to be his father. "Daddy! The hole is ready! Come bury me in the sand!"

The man grinned at his child. "Sure thing, Junior. Show me where your hole is."

2D watched the pair as they walked across the sand. The man wore jean shorts and a blue tank top. His child was wearing swim trunks decorated with comic strip prints. Squinting, 2D focused on the shorts, hoping to get a good look at one of the comics. He had no sooner read the title "X-Men" than the kid jumped into a hole.

"Wow, that's a deep one, Junior! I'm impressed!" The father said, smiling down at his child, who was up to his neck in sand.

"Bury me! Then we can take a picture to show Grandma!"

"Sure thing, kiddo."

The man began to scoop sand into the hole. As 2D stared, his eyes glazed over; he was drifting through confused thoughts. He felt like he had witnessed something important, but he couldn't quite figure out what.

2D rubbed the side of his head, squeezing his eyes shut. _Think, brain, think! What am I missing?_ Voices drifted through his mind along with flashes of memory. There was the fan, standing in front of him, trying to give him advice… _Bury your past, 2D; You have to bury you past…_

 _I don't know how to bury my past!_ 2D thought, a grimace crossing his face as he ran his fingers through his hair. He felt a headache coming on.

Then there was another memory, one of Noodle on Russel's phone screen, looking very wise as she stood on a mountaintop with snow falling around her. _They told me to follow the signs… Follow the signs…_

 _Follow…_

2D remembered the father following his child to the hole he had dug. Through his heavy shroud of thoughts and inner voices, 2D could still distantly hear the child's joyful cries as his father buried him in the sand. _Is this a sign?_ 2D wondered, banging his forehead softly against his knees. _What does it mean?_

The child had been wearing X-Men swim trunks. For some reason, that detail stood out to him. _Is that important? Do I need to read an old comic book or something?_

The voices in his head clamored for attention, yet none of them gave him answers. 2D groaned in frustration as his thoughts continued to whirl in confusion. _I don't know what this means! I don't know what any of this means!"_

The voices in his head were getting louder, assaulting him with a barrage of quotes that 2D willed himself to understand.

 _Bury your past! Bury your past!_

 _Follow the signs!_

 _X-Men! X-Men!_

 _Shut up, shut up!_ 2D cried inwardly at the voices. They only got louder.

 _WE'RE NOT SHUTTING UP UNTIL YOU LISTEN!_

 _Bury your past!_

 _X-Men!_

 _Bury it! Bury!_

 _X! X-Men! X!_

 _Bury your…_

 _X-Men…_

 _Bury… X…_

 _Bury your X…_

 _Bury your ex…_

Something clicked in the singer's head. His eyes opened wide.

 _BURY YOUR EX!_

 _. . ._

 **Stay tuned for Part 2!**

 **Much thanks to everyone who's reviewed! I received a lovely bit of advice from Distroyer about taking requests, so if anyone has ideas of ways they want to see 2D try to kill Paula, feel free to leave them in a review or PM!**


	4. Chapter 4

**2D's Second Attempt at Murder, Part 2**

 **Disclaimer: Nothing has changed since the last chapter. Gorillaz still ain't mine.**

"Paula, you're an idiot."

"Oh, shut up. You're just jealous."

Paula slipped a pair of glossy black heels onto her feet as her roommate, Casey, scowled down at her. " _Jealous?_ Girl, why would I be jealous of you for being invited to a graveyard? _At night?"_

"Because this graveyard," Paula responded, "has free champagne. What's not to love?"

" _A graveyard!"_ Casey fumed, throwing her hands into the air. "Are you even thinking? Do you realize how sketchy this is? Who hosts midnight drinking parties in graveyards?"

Standing up straight, Paula reached into her purse and pulled out a fancy-looking invitation. Her eyes skimmed over the print, searching for a certain detail. "Mr. Richman. That's who throws drinking parties in graveyards at night." Paula narrowed her eyes, skimming back over the card. "And it's not a party. It's a _…_ ah… _soy-ree."_

" _What?"_

"A soy-ree."

"How's that spelled?"

"S-O-I-R-E-E."

Casey smacked a hand over her forehead _._ "It's pronounced swah-ray. It's French."

"Ooh, French," Paula said with a grin. "You like French stuff. I bet you wish you were invited."

"Paula, doesn't this whole thing make you even a little bit suspicious? Seriously! Champagne in a graveyard? I bet 'Richman' isn't even his real name. He's probably a predator."

"If he's a predator with champagne, I'm in."

"Listen to yourself! This is ridiculous!"

" _Exactly,"_ Paula cried, stepping towards Casey. "It's absolutely ridiculous! That's how I know it's not some sort of trick! If someone wanted to send me an invitation to a fake party, they'd make up something believable, like a political rally or an apartment owner's convention. Nobody would try to trick someone into going to a party in a graveyard at midnight with champagne! They'd have to be thick to think I'd fall for something like that! This invitation," Paula continued, glancing down at the card before looking back at Casey, "Is probably written by a quirky old man who likes to have fun. A rich one, probably. Rich people don't see enough excitement and insecurity in their financial lives, so they have to find it somewhere else. I wouldn't object to getting to know a _rich_ old man tonight," Paula finished with a wink.

Casey hung her head with defeat. "You'd walk into your own grave if there was champagne at the bottom, wouldn't you?"

"Probably," Paula conceded, opening the door. "My cab is here. Don't worry about me if I spend the whole night out; I'll probably be helping that rich old man get his _excitement_. Have fun not drinking!"

Casey watched as Paula exited the apartment, slamming the door behind her. " _Richman,_ " she muttered to herself. "Watch him be a murderous psycho." Casey yawned, stretching her arms above her head. "Well, I'm not staying up for her emergency call. I'm going to get some sleep."

. . .

Paula exited the cab, paid the driver, and watched as it zoomed away, the only car – the only sign of life – on this deserted street. She turned to face the tall iron gates before her. For as long as she had lived in this town, the left gate had been missing, making the cemetery un-closeable. Paula strolled through the opening and began climbing the hill, approaching the center of the graveyard. As she walked, headstones and trees appeared on either side of her. Fallen leaves and sticks crackled under her heels as she made her progress.

 _Crack… Snap… crunch…_

The woman paused, tilting her head and narrowing her eyes. Silence hung eerily through the dark air, occasionally interrupted by the soft hush of wind blowing through the dry leaves in the trees. An owl hooted. Dead leaves swirled around Paula's feet as her brow scrunched in thought. _I can't hear anyone out here. Did I come early?_ She checked her phone: it was 12:05. _Five minutes past midnight-things should have started by now…_ Paula shivered at the cold night air, wishing she had brought a shawl to wrap around her shoulders. Her black cocktail dress just wasn't keeping her warm.

As Paula neared the top of the hill, she felt a twinge of misgiving. _What if Casey was right? Maybe it was kind of stupid to go looking for champagne in a graveyard at night…_ Paula shook her head, her expression hardening. _No. She's just jealous. I'm not going to let her ruin my fun._ Glowering, Paula stomped to the top of the hill.

Just past the hill's crest, there was a small hollow. The ground dipped down, creating a few square meters of space that were completely hidden from view by anyone who wasn't standing either in the hollow or at the top of the hill. This space was full of headstones, one of which was propped next to an empty grave and a huge pile of dirt, waiting to be filled in. There was also a candlelit table, standing out like a sore thumb amongst the dreary scene. On this table was a piece of paper…

Paula descended into the hollow. Stepping around various headstones, some new, some old, she arrived at the table and leaned down to read the note:

 _Graveyard Soiree postponed 30 minutes. Early arrivals: Help yourself to the champagne placed near the empty grave while you wait for the event to begin._

 _Thank you for your patience,_

 _-Mr. Richman_

Paula huffed angrily. _This Richman guy ought to have told all his guests that the event was postponed. Now I've got to wait in a graveyard alone for a half hour!_ Paula checked her phone again. _Alright, twenty-two minutes. Big jerk… I ought to just take the champagne and ditch…_ Paula smirked. _Yeah! I'll grab the champagne, take it back to the apartment, and watch Netflix! Actually, I think there's an unwatched episode of The Bachelor on the DVR…_ Leaving her phone on the table, Paula approached the empty grave with a smile. _Maybe I'll even share some of the champagne with Casey. Maybe. I bet she didn't even stay up to see if I'd be coming back._

Paula arrived at the edge of the empty grave. Ignoring the dark depths of the hole, she searched the rim of the opening, hoping to see the top of a champagne bottle poking out of the tall grass. Paula scowled _Where is it?_ She leaned forward, wondering if it was on the opposite side of the grave.

 _Snap!_

Paula's eyes widened. _What was-_

Paula gasped as she was pushed into the hole.

She was tumbling through the air, falling. She screamed-

 _Thud._

Paula groaned. The ground beneath her was wet and soft. All around her was dark. There was a noise…

 _Shhhh… shhhh…_

Feet moving through leaves and tall grass, somewhere above her. Painfully, Paula lifted her head, watching as a tall figure appeared at the edge of the grave, looking down at her, his head framed by a halo of spiky hair. "Hello, Paula."

Paula gasped. That familiar cockney accent… it was…

" _Stuart?"_

The man moved his arms, tossing something over her. Moments later, Paula coughed as chunks of dirt flew into her open mouth and rained on her clothes. The man leaned back from the edge of the grave only to reappear a second later, tossing more dirt over the fallen woman.

"2D, _what are you doing?"_

"I'm burying you, silly," he piped cheerfully.

" _Why?"_

"Because I need to bury my past. A lady at the beach said so."

" _What?"_

"I know, I was confused at first too," 2D said conversationally, continuing to throw armfuls of dirt over Paula. "I was like, 'how do you even bury a past?' 'cause, you know, the past isn't really like an object, so you can't just stick it in a hole and cover it with dirt. But then Noodle said something about following signs, and I saw this guy burying his son-"

" _Shut –_ wait – you saw _what?"_

"A man burying his son," 2D said dismissively, "but that's not important. What's important is that his son was wearing X-Men swim trunks, and that the 'X' in 'X-Men' represents you, 'cause you're my ex, so I have to bury you."

Paula's blood ran cold. She felt her pulse jump as she quickly wiped the dirt off her clothing, pushing it to the edges of the hole. "Stuart, this is insane! You'll get arrested for this!"

He tilted his head to the side. "Why would I get arrested? This is good! My therapist, Ms. Valley, says it's important for me to look after my mental health, and that people should support me."

" _Your mental health?_ What has any of this got to do with your mental health?" Paula cried.

"If I bury you, then I bury my past. That means I'll have more confidence and be able to stand up for myself more."

"But this is murder!" Paula screamed. "Murder isn't therapy!"

"You know, Paula, you can be very closed-minded," 2D said. "Lots of things can be therapeutic; you have to think creatively. You should try making a musical album. I've found that making music really helps with my creative thinking."

"How can I do anything when I'm _stuck at the bottom of a hole?"_

"Hmmm…" 2D hummed. "That's a good point… Forget the album. You can just sing me a song while I bury you."

Paula winced as a fresh wave of dirt fell over her face. "Stuart, you'd better stop this right now! A very wealthy, powerful man is going to meet me here soon, and when he sees you burying me, he'll take you out!"

"You mean Mr. Richman?" 2D inquired. "I made him up. I set up this whole thing! It took me forever to think of a good way to convince you to come out here. But, like I said, writing music helps with your creativity! Don't you think this was clever?"

" _No_! I think this was _stupid!"_

"Paula, that's a hurtful thing to say, especially when you _know_ I've been having trouble with my confidence!" 2D whined.

" _Let me out of this hole!"_ Paula shouted.

She could see 2D's frown in the light of the full moon, hurt shining out of his dark eyes. "No. I need to do this, whether you support me or not. Now either be quiet or sing that song. I need a happy tune to cheer me up."

"You're crazy!" Paula shouted.

2D huffed. "Fine. I'll sing something myself. My voice is better than yours anyway."

"You – _ack!"_ Paula sputtered as wet soil flew into her mouth.

"Hmmm, lets see… How 'bout a classic?" 2D began to sing softly above the grave as he threw scoops of dirt over Paula, his voice reverberating through the cool night air. "The world is spinning too fast, I'm buying lead Nike shoes-"

Paula continued to sweep dirt off her clothing, grimacing as mud soaked into the fabric.

"To keep myself tethered to the days I try to lose-"

Paula smirked. _At least he's not checking to see if I'm actually getting buried. As long as I keep crawling over the dirt he throws in-_

"My momma said to slow down, you must make your own shoes-"

 _-I'll be fine. Ha! Idiot! The joke's on him!_

"Stop dancing to the music of Gorillaz in a happy mood, keepin' my grove on…"

Paula sighed as she climbed over each new handful of dirt. This was a deep hole; it would probably take hours for 2D to fill it in enough for her to crawl out. _Oh well, I can wait. When I get out of this hole, I'm going to punch him so hard those stupid black eyes will roll right out of his head!_

"Get the cool… Get the cool shoe – _Hey!_ Why aren't you buried yet? You should be covered in dirt by now!"

2D squinted down into the hole as Paula cursed silently inside her head. "Have you been sweeping the dirt off yourself? Paula, that's not fair! How am I supposed to do this if you won't cooperate?"

"I guess you'll just have to give up and let me out of the hole," Paula sneered.

2D's eyes sprang open wide. "Ooh, wait! I've got a better idea!" Paula watched as the man disappeared. She heard him shuffling through the graveyard, leaves crunching as he made his unseen progress. When he reappeared, he was holding an armful of large rocks.

Paula's heart skipped a beat.

2D placed his pile of rocks on the ground next to him, keeping one in his hand. He straightened up and took aim. "Hold still, Paula."

Paula screeched, diving out of the way as a rock came soaring towards her face.

2D whined with frustration. "Paula, I said _hold still!"_

" _No!"_ Paula screamed, picking up the rock and chucking it back at 2D. Unfortunately for her, her angry throw was very poorly aimed. It bounced off the side of the hole, flying back towards her and hitting her squarely in the forehead. Paula dropped to the ground.

2D stared down into the hole, shrugged, and threw a handful of dirt onto Paula's chest.

A long moan echoed through the graveyard.

2D paused, dirt in hand, and turned to look at the crest of the hill. His eyebrows jumped when he saw a ragged figure standing, swaying, its arms outstretched. Around that figure, arms and heads were popping out of the ground, followed by chests and bodies…

"Eep! I didn't know there were zombies in this graveyard!" 2D glanced towards the approaching undead, then back at Paula, sprawled at the bottom of a grave. He groaned with frustration. "I'll have to finish this later… Gotta get out of here…" That said, the blue-haired man sprinted away.

Zombies roamed the hollow, sniffing the air for signs of life. A few of them peered curiously into the open grave but only saw what appeared to be just another corpse. Disappointed, they lumbered away, crawling back into their respective patches of ground.

. . .

Casey stood propped against the kitchen counter, eating a granola bar as early morning sunlight streamed in through a small window. When she heard the apartment door squeak open and slam shut, she pushed off the counter and ambled into the foyer to greet her roommate. "Hey girl, I guess you got lucky last ni- _Whoa!_ What happened to you?"

Casey stared with her mouth wide open, horrified at the sight of her roommate. Paula was plastered head to toe in mud. Most of the dirt had been wiped off her face, revealing a gigantic bruise in the center of the woman's forehead.

"Don't ask," Paula growled, stomping off to her room. She needed a shower.

. . .

 **Guess who had to look up how to spell soiree while writing this chapter? Meeeeee! Anyway, hope you liked it! Stay tuned to find out how 2D will decide to murder Paula next!**


	5. Chapter 5

**2D's 3** **rd** **Attempt at Murder, Part 1**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Gorillaz**

2D was in a glum mood when he entered Manchester Central Library. The sight of hundreds of ancient wooden bookshelves stacked high with information he didn't need only made him feel sourer. Scuffing the toe of his converse shoe against the carpet, the singer frowned as he realized that he was going to be here for a while.

It had all started earlier that afternoon back at the house. He had been watching television until Murdoc (who 2D was not entirely pleased to have back around) waltzed into the room, seized the remote, and insisted on watching a nature program about whales.

 _I mean, seriously, whales? Why wales!?_ 2D had thought dejectedly as he evacuated the sitting room. _Of all the cool animals he could take an interest in, like sharks and dogs and sea cucumbers, he had to pick whales! Stupid blubbery fish…_ He had shuffled down the hall and into the kitchen, where he fancied having a midday snack. As he opened the fridge, his dark eyes roamed over an assortment of odd-smelling, half-full takeout containers crammed onto the messy shelves. His gaze eventually came to rest upon a grease-stained box of General Tso's chicken and rice, which he grasped with hesitant fingers and gave an experimental sniff.

 _Hmmm… This doesn't smell too bad. Then again, those fuzzy white strawberries that made me sick last week didn't smell too bad either…_ After a moment's consideration, the blue-haired man shrugged, shut the fridge, and carried the box of cold food to the kitchen table. As he sat down, he spared a glance towards the microwave. It was still broken from last week, when he had tried to heat a foil-wrapped burrito.

 _How was I supposed to know it would catch on fire_? 2D thought as he grasped a slimy spoon someone (probably him) had left on the table and began rooting through the takeout box. _I hope we get a new microwave soon; this stuff tastes better when it's warm._

2D ate his food, cringing slightly at the feeling of cold, slimy rice sliding down his throat, gazing lazily out the window for entertainment. There wasn't much going on outside. A bird flashed briefly into view before soaring away, a gray van drove by, a jogger stopped at their mailbox, stole their mail, and ran off, and an old man slept in a chair on his front porch.

 _That man hasn't moved in days,_ 2D thought, tilting his head to the side. _He must be a heavy sleeper. I wish I could sleep that soundly. Ever since Murdoc came back from jail, I've been having nightmares about whales. I wish he wouldn't play ocean noises to help himself sleep. Why's he got to sleep in the room next to mine anyway? What ever happened to his Winnebago?_

As the singer glared sulkily out the window, movement in the sky caught his eyes. It was an airplane, coasting high over their rooftops, its wings piercing the fluffy white clouds.

 _Russel promised that he would teach me how to make a paper airplane,_ 2D mused, thinking back to a pleasant conversation he had had with the drummer during the recording of The Now Now. _But now that Murdoc's back, he's been avoiding everyone._ The singer sighed sadly, letting his head fall into his hands. _I'm never going to learn how to make a paper airplane…_

Things had gone downhill for 2D following Murdoc's return from prison. Despite the bassist's claims that he was a changed man, he still enjoyed picking on 2D and doing little things to irritate everyone in the band. Furthermore, upset that they had released an album without him, Murdoc had taken back full control over the band's activities. 2D had tried to convince the bassist to let him have some say in the band's leadership, but the singer left that brief conversation with a broken nose. Murdoc wasn't budging.

 _Stupid Murdoc, making life less fun, watching stupid whale documentaries…_ 2D fumed silently, kicking his heels against the legs of his chair. _Someday I'll show him that I'm a better band leader than he is… That I'm smarter and cooler and can do cool stuff…_

Suddenly, 2D's eyes widened with inspiration. _I know how I can show him I'm better than he is! I'll figure out how to make a paper airplane all by myself!_ Searching the table, 2D smiled when he saw a large book titled _Authentic Japanese Cuisine_. The excited man seized the book, opened it, and tore out the first page with a flourish. His fingertips tingling with excitement, he began to make crazy folds all over the paper, slowly crushing it into a misshapen lump. Observing the fruit of his labors with a quizzical gleam in his eye, 2D threw the paper ball across the room and watched it hit the far wall and fall into the clogged, slop-filled sink.

 _Hmmm… That one flew, but it didn't really soar…_ _Oh well! I've got plenty of time to figure this out!_ His smile unceasing, 2D tore out the next page of the cookbook.

2 hours later…

"2D, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY COOKBOOK?"

2D's eyes widened in surprise. Noodle usually spoke softly, so the sound of her shouting was rather unexpected. Nevertheless, he calmly replied, "I needed paper to learn how to make paper airplanes."

Noodle was livid, her arms set stiffly by her sides and her hands fisted tightly, knuckles blanching white. " _Paper airplanes?_ You destroyed my cookbook so that you could make _paper airplanes_?"

"Yep," 2D chimed with a grin before lobbing his most recent lumpy creation at the far wall. It joined a pile of similar crumpled paper balls soaking in the sink. 2D frowned. "I'm not very good at making paper airplanes… I was going to figure this out myself, but do you think you could give me a hint?"

The next thing he knew, Noodle was looming over him, her face turning red as she hollered, "THAT COOKBOOK WAS A GIFT FROM MY FRIEND IN JAPAN! IT WAS LIMITED EDITION, THE MASTERWORK OF A FAMOUS CHEF FROM OSAKA! THERE ARE ONLY THREE COPIES LEFT WORLDWIDE! I WAS GOING TO MAKE A BIG MEAL TONIGHT FOR ALL OF US, AND NOW I CAN'T BECAUSE MY COOKBOOK IS TORN TO SHREDS AND SOAKING UP THE WEEK-OLD BEAN SOUP THAT SOMEONE LEFT IN OUR CLOGGED SINK!"

At some point during the rant, Murdoc had snuck into the room and began laughing at 2D as the singer cowered in his seat, gazing up in terror at the screaming guitarist.

"YOU," Noodle shouted, poking a finger into 2D's chest, "ARE GOING TO FIX THIS! _YOU_ ARE GOING TO FIND ANOTHER COPY OF THIS COOKBOOK AND BUY IT FOR ME! UNTIL YOU DO THAT, IT IS _YOUR_ JOB TO COOK DINNER FOR THE WHOLE BAND EVERY NIGHT! DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?"

"B-but Noodle, I c-can't cook-"

" _I SAID DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?"_

"Yes, m-mam," 2D squeaked, trembling under Noodle's burning green gaze.

Thus began the era of 2D learning how to cook. The band was thoroughly unimpressed with Day 1's dinner of burnt toast and jam, so Murdoc threatened to buy a whale plushie and hide it in the singer's room if he didn't either get Noodle her new cookbook or learn how to cook himself. Russel, unwilling to spend any more time than necessary eating 2D's cooking, had helped 2D find and order another copy of Noodle's beloved cookbook, but the item required at least 2 weeks to ship from Japan. In the meantime, 2D was charged to go to the library, find a cookbook, and attempt to make something edible for the upcoming evening.

. . .

2D wandered through the library's shelves, morosely skimming over the titles of books he passed by. The singer wasn't much of a reader and couldn't remember having ever set foot in a library, so he assumed that the only way to find a book was to wander around until he saw it. That being said, 2D had yet to find the cookbook section of the library. He wasn't even in the nonfiction section.

The singer paused, daring to hope for success as he read the title of a nearby book. _The Silence of the Lambs… People eat lambs, right? Maybe this is a cookbook!_ 2D flipped the book open to a random page. His face fell in disappointment as he failed to find any pictures of food. Sighing, the singer set the book back on the shelf (not in the correct place, but at least he tried) and wandered to another section of the library.

2D strolled up to a shelf labeled "Greek and Roman Myths." Tilting his head curiously, he mused, _I think Russel likes Greek food. Maybe there will be some recipes in here!_ The man seized another book, opened it, and began to read, "Cronus, heeding the prophecy that he would be killed by one of his own offspring, began to eat his children…" _There isn't any food in this book,_ 2D thought with disappointment as he re-shelved the book.

Eventually, 2D managed to steer himself towards the nonfiction section of the library, only to find himself staring at a collection of volumes labeled "Cannibalistic Cultures of South America." The singer groaned in frustration, banging his head against the row of plastic-covered spines. _This library has too many books… I wish I could've just found a recipe on the internet, but Murdoc switched the lock screens for both my phone and my tablet to whales… Cooking is stupid-_

"Excuse me, young man? Can I help you find something?"

2D jumped as a woman's voice broke through his musings. He turned to gape at the bright-eyed brunette, stuttering, "Ummm… ah… Do you actually know where stuff is in here? There's, like, a thousand books in this place or something!"

The woman cast 2D an endearing smile. "Actually, there are over one-hundred and seventy thousand books in this branch, and yes, I can help you find what you're looking for. My name is Mrs. Finnigan; I'm one of the librarians here."

2D returned her smile and held out his hand. "I'm 2D. It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Fin-bin." The two shook hands and then 2D stated, "I'm looking for a cookbook. My band wants me to make dinner for them, but I can't even make toast right."

The woman nodded her head sympathetically. "Oh, I know how you feel. People always assume I'm a good cook just because I'm a mother, but my whole family can tell you that my husband is the one who can cook. I'm always burning things! Honestly, I don't know how Jeremy makes that uneven oven behave- oh, but I'm rambling!"

"Yes, you are," 2D agreed jovially, nodding his head with a smile.

Mrs. Finnigan chuckled, shaking her head gently before continuing, "Tell you what; I'll show you to the cooking section of the library and help you pick out some nice, easy cookbooks! How does that sound?"

2D's smile broadened, his lips parting so that he could give Mrs. Finnigan a goofy, gap-toothed grin. "That sounds great, Mrs. Fun-bun! Thanks!"

The pair made their way through the rows of shelves, progressing towards the back corner of the library. As they strolled, Mrs. Finnigan asked, "So, why are your friends making you cook dinner? Do you all take turns with the kitchen chores?"

2D shook his head. "No. One of them is mad at me because I ruined her cookbook. I didn't mean to; I just had an important job to do and the cookbook got all torn up." 2D frowned, reliving the hazy memory of the day before. "I mean, it was really Murdoc's fault. I needed to show him that I was smart, that I could do something impressive. It didn't work though. All I did was make a mess."

Mrs. Finnigan watched the singer as his head hung low and his eyes turned to the floor. Moved, she placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry to hear about that… It must be hard to have a friend who doesn't believe in you."

"It's not just that," 2D mourned. "He treats me like dirt. Like… He left for a while, and I started going to therapy, 'cause it made me feel better. But when he came back, he cancelled my therapy. Said it wasn't worth the money, and that I was hopeless anyways. Before he came back, I felt happy for a while… Or at least I thought I did…"

The librarian frowned at 2D's cryptic statement. "You only thought you were happy? How does that work?"

The singer scrunched his eyebrows together in thought. "It's sort of hard to explain… I was usually happy, but there was always something, like a voice in my head, telling me that it wouldn't last, that if I couldn't move past my past, everything would be bad again. The voice would give me suggestions sometimes, ways to help me move forward, but things never seemed to work out the way I planned." The singer scowled. "I failed, again and again. Now Murdoc's back, and I'm not happy anymore, and I'm still failing!"

The pair stopped in front of a large shelf labeled "cookbooks." Mrs. Finnigan sighed, observing the poor, blue-haired man who was having trouble catching a break. Suddenly, a spark of inspiration lit her mind. She smiled. "2D, I have an idea. I can't promise that it will solve all of your problems, but it might just help you show your friends why they should take you seriously."

The woman stepped up to the shelf. Curious, 2D raised his head to watch as her hand skimmed over the colorful spines lining the shelves, pausing as her fingers traced over a thick red volume. Mrs. Finnigan handed the book to 2D, who read the title skeptically. "Experimental Cooking? What's this?"

The librarian smiled. "I used this book myself once when my son told me that my recipes were old and boring. This book helps you think outside of the box, create meals like nothing you've ever tasted before, and impress the people who think they've sized you up!" Noting 2D's befuddled stare, Mrs. Finnigan simplified, "It's a book of tips to help you cook new things."

2D grinned. "Oh, that sounds good! But how's it supposed to help me impress Murdoc and be happy?"

"If you cook a really good meal, something that they can't cook, they're sure to be impressed," the woman claimed. "Also, I think it could help you with your self-confidence. A bit of success on the stove is just the thing for a mind in need of encouragement. I've even heard that cooking can be therapeutic!"

"Therapeutic?" 2D replied, his eyes wide and gleaming.

"Yes!" Mrs. Finnigan affirmed. "Give the tips in the book a try! I'm sure that once you get cooking, you'll find yourself feeling better in no time!" The woman's watch beeped and she made a small, startled noise. "Ooh! Time flies in good company! I'm off to take my lunch break. Good luck with your friends and your cooking! Feel free to stop by again whenever you need a new recipe!"

And then she was gone, leaving 2D alone among the cookbooks.

The singer stared down at the book in his hands, mesmerized. "Experimental cooking… Therapeutic…" It seemed to good to be true, but he could already feel his spirits lifting, hope sparking in his mind, lighting a candle of inspiration. "Yeah… Maybe this is just what I need!"

Turning the book in his hands, 2D flipped to a random page. The subtitle "inspired cooking" lorded over a list of bullet-pointed tips across from an image of raw meat. His eyes narrowing in focus, 2D read, "Let your experiences guide you when you cook. Be inspired by yourself. This way, you can create a dish which is uniquely you."

 _Inspired by my experiences?_ 2D thought. _I haven't had many good cooking experiences…_

There was a warm tingle in the back of 2D's mind, warm like a close friend's smile. Then there was a voice… A familiar voice… A voice who had always tried to help 2D, and who the singer had missed sorely since Murdoc's return. 2D grinned as his guiding inner voice began to give him advice.

 _Hey! Maybe the book isn't talking about cooking experiences!_

2D tilted his head sideways, considering the voice's words. _But what other experiences could I use to cook?_

The voice responded immediately with enthusiasm. _Remember, 2D, this isn't just cooking. This is therapy! Follow the signs, follow your heart, and everything will be made clear!_

2D nodded, resolve forming in his mind. _You're right! I'll do it! I'll think back to my experiences, follow the signs, and cook for the sake of my therapy!_ Closing the book, 2D was about to make his way towards the check-out desk when something on the cover of the book caught his eye.

"Ex," 2D breathed out loud, observing the title of Experimental Cooking. He narrowed his eyes. "Ex… that feels like something important… Wait! I remember!"

The singer never had a stellar memory, but he could still recall hazily the time he attempted to push his ex off a cliff, and the time he tried to bury her in a graveyard. "Paula! She has something to do with my therapy! Maybe she's supposed to help me cook something!" However, a frown quickly returned to the singer's face. "Wait… but Murdoc used to say that Paula was an even worse cook than I was. She went to the kitchen once back at Kong to get a glass of water and ended up starting that huge fire that resulted in a hellhole. There was always a demon hiding in my room after that…"

Clearing his head with a quick shake, 2D growled with frustration. "If she can't cook, then how am I supposed to make a meal with her?"

 _Make a meal with her…_ The voice echoed.

2D's breath caught in his throat. "When you put it that way… It sounds almost like… Like I'm planning to cook her!"

Images flashed across his mind's eye, images of books he had seen in the library. That shelf containing books about cannibalistic cultures… That Greek book about the guy who ate his children… That other book, _The Silence of the Lambs_ \- "I think I saw that movie once," 2D murmured to himself. "One of the characters was a guy who ate people…" The singer frowned. "I don't think eating people is something people normally do. I'm pretty sure Russel, Noodle, and Murdoc have never eaten people- well, maybe Murdoc, but he's not exactly normal- it just doesn't seem like something people do. It's… It's…" The singer's black eyes went wide. He stared at the title of his book. "It's Experimental!"

2D smiled. All of the signs were pointing him towards this answer, this solution to his problems. Hugging the cookbook to his chest, he whispered softly, excitedly, "This is the way! This is how I'll show them what I can do! I'll cook them something they've never cooked before, something experimental, something that'll show them that the past me is gone, and that the new me can do anything!" The singer squeezed his eyes tight as he grinned and giggled, "I'm going to cook Paula Cracker!"

 **Coming in for the kill once more, it's Psycho Stu! Will the culinary arts finally bring our favorite singer the therapy he's been searching for? Will Paula escape his next attempt at her life? Will 2D try to cook his ex into a meat pie, a stir-fry, or something else? Stay tuned for the second half of Murder Attempt #3!**


	6. Chapter 6

**2D's 3** **rd** **Attempt at Murder, Part 2**

Her head was pounding. Had she drunk a little too much at the bar last night? Judging by the hard surface at her back, Paula had probably gotten so wasted that she fell asleep on a table.

The suffering woman attempted to raise a hand to her brow only to find that her limb couldn't be moved – something was holding it down. Scrunching her closed eyes in confusion, Paula tried to sit up. Once again, she found that her movements were restrained. Feeling her frustration rising, the woman thrashed, trying desperately to liberate herself from whatever had her pinned down. However, all that she managed to do was ascertain that the thing staunching her movements was a very well-made rope and that, if she continued moving, she was going to end up with a nasty rope-burn.

"Yep, she's definitely awake."

The voice that spoke was rough and low, thrumming through the air above and to the left of her. Slowly, Paula eased open her eyes, her pupils cringing at the bright, white light pouring down directly over her face. As her eyes adjusted to the glare, she made out two silhouettes looming over either side of her, one large and muscular, the other tall and lean. As she waited for the figures to come into focus, a second voice piped up from the lean individual, a familiar, cockney accent which confirmed, "Yeah, her eyes are open now. It looks like everything's set!"

Paula's eyes widened.

 _Oh no._

It was _his_ voice piercing the air.

 _His_ silhouette leaning over her.

 _His_ table pressing into her spine.

 _His_ rope holding her down.

Every curse Paula knew flew through her head at once. She wasn't waking up drunk in a pub. For the second time in her life, Paula Cracker had been kidnapped!

"Well," she heard 2D chime as his figure turned towards the muscular man, "Thanks for the help, McGuinness! I don't think I could have dragged her here all by myself!"

"My pleasure, Bluey. Any plan to show up that jerk Niccals is a plan I want to be involved in, even if it is a bit convoluted." The large man - McGuinness - paused before asking, "Say, how is kidnapping this chick going to help you put Niccals in his place, anyway?"

The next words she heard made Paula's blood run cold. "I'm going to make an example out of her," 2D declared. "When I put Paula's well-done flesh on the dinner table, he'll realize what I'm capable of. Then, I'll be the one in control."

McGuinness let out a low whistle, followed by a chuckle. "You've got some seriously messed-up ideas, man, and I love it. I wish I'd met you in prison instead of him; we could have been pals. At least now I know that pickled jerk is getting his comeuppance!"

Paula's wrists trembled in their ties. She felt icy fear grip her chest as she realized that not only had she been kidnapped by her murderous ex, but that there was a legitimate, cold-blooded criminal on the singer's side. This was bad; this was very, very bad-

 _Get a grip, Paula!_ She scolded herself, painfully aware that even her inner voice was shaking. _We can think of a way out of this! I know that Stuart can't be reasoned with; he's too insane. But this other man, McGuinness, maybe I can get through to him! He's a criminal who's been to prison, but if I can convince him that letting me go is in his best interest, he could overpower 2D!_

Paula inhaled a deep breath, willed her frayed nerves not to show, and made her first contribution to the conversation buzzing over her head. Mustering the most seductive voice she could manage, Paula crooned, "Now now, boys, I hardly think it's necessary to use me in your devious plans to avenge your grievance with Murdoc. There are so many more fun things we could be doing together…" Paula twisted her head towards the muscular man, making sure to show off the curve of her neck as she did so. "Mr. McGuinness, why don't we head back to your place? I'd love to spend the night."

The woman cast her best sultry gaze up towards McGuinness. Her eyes had finally adjusted enough to make out his facial features. She took in his raised eyebrows, his widening grin. Paula felt hope spark in her chest. _I think it's working!_

Just then, McGuinness shocked Paula with a booming laugh. "Sorry to disappoint, mam, but I'm gay." Turning towards 2D, the criminal sighed, "Well, it looks like you've got things taken care of over here. I need to go meet my pals at our hideout before they start watching the next episode of _Ru Paul's_ without me. If you ever fancy making a career out of doing criminal stuff like this, don't hesitate to give me a call! And be sure to let me know next time you want to get back at Niccals!"

"See ya, McGuinness! Have a nice evening!" 2D waved merrily as the larger man stomped out of the room.

Panic shot through Paula like a bullet. "Wait! McGuinness! I may not be your type, but I can still be of use to you! I can join your gang! I'll help you rob banks and break into jewelry stores and commit tax fraud!"

The large man disappeared behind the room's open doorway. Paula could hear the house's front door creak open as the sounds of crickets chirping outside became audible.

"IS ANYBODY OUT THERE? PLEASE HELP ME!"

The door slammed shut with a resounding _boom_.

The room fell silent.

Paula could barely breathe. Her lungs were contracting, her heart racing wildly, the throb in her head forgotten as horror poured through her mind like blood pouring out of a wound. She was still gazing at the doorway through which McGuinness had disappeared. Slowly, she turned her head, her breath catching as she found herself face-to-face with the smiling, spiky-haired man she had learned to fear.

"Hello, Paula," 2D purred.

Those dark eyes, the eyes which held her doom in their depths, reflected Paula's pale expression back towards her. _How can this be the same man I dated all those years ago?_ She lamented inwardly, feeling her soul quake. _He was so pathetic back then, so easy to control, so easy to hurt!_ Paula recalled the satisfaction she had felt, the pleasure she had taken in establishing her dominance over the man, in ripping his heart out. _What happened? When did he become the one doing the hurting?_ Finally finding her voice, Paula managed to stammer out the question, "Wh-why did you b-bring me here?"

2D frowned. "Usually, when someone says 'hello' to you, you're supposed to say 'hello' back. My mom said so. It hurts my feelings when you don't talk nicely to me."

"Cut the crap, 2D!" Paula wailed. "Why am I here?"

"Didn't you hear me talking to McGuinness?" 2D retorted. "I need to make an example out of you, to show Murdoc what I'm capable of. I need to cook your flesh and serve it to the rest of the band."

"THAT'S CRAZY!" Paula screamed.

"No; it's _therapeutic,_ " 2D reasoned. "The nice lady at the library told me that cooking could be therapeutic. She's really smart! She knew how many books there were in the whole library, and even helped me find the one I needed!"

" _The library?"_ Paula screeched. "What has any of this got to do with the library?"

"It's where I found this cookbook," 2D explained, holding up a cheerful-looking hardback with a picture of a squid sticking out of a casserole on the cover titled _Experimental Cooking._ "This book and the voices in my head told me that I need to cook you to prove to Murdoc that I'm cool enough to help lead the band."

 _His justifications get weirder every time…_ "Stuart, you can't do this! Killing people is illegal!"

"I'm not killing people," 2D responded with an eye roll. "I'm _experimental cooking!_ "

Just as Paula opened her mouth with a biting retort on her tongue, an oven dinged nearby. 2D smiled. "It sound's like the oven's done preheating! Now, I can't fit your whole body into the oven, so I'm going to have to cut you into little pieces."

"WHAT!?"

"Hold still, would you?"

2D stepped away from the table. Paula twisted her head to follow his back as he rummaged through multiple sets of drawers. "Ah, here we go!" 2D proclaimed as he thrust his arm into a particularly deep drawer. There was a glint of metal; 2D swept his hand through the air, his fingers clutching a huge, serrated knife with what appeared to be dried blood splattered across its steel surface. "Murdoc's steak knife! This will do perfectly!"

The singer approached the table. Paula's heart skipped a beat; she didn't even remember to tremble as she lay in paralyzing fear watching the singer approach. 2D tilted his head to the side, his eyes gleaming with disturbing excitement, his smile wide and carefree. "I think I'll start with one of your arms; that should be easy enough to saw off." He stepped up close to the table, placing his empty palm on the wooden surface; Paula could feel his fingertips brushing her shoulder. A look of intense concentration covered his face as he raised the horrific knife high into the air.

With the strike imminent, Paula managed to find her voice. "Stuart," she croaked, her voice-box squeaky and shivering madly, "don't do this… _please…"_

Then, many things happened at once.

Stuart swung the knife towards Paula. He missed his mark, driving the knife through her ropes instead of her flesh.

The table buckled under the added weight of the man leaning against it, cracking in half and crashing to the floor.

2D, falling with the table, hit his head on the floor, hard.

Finally, Paula found herself gasping in pain, her back reeling from its collision with the ground, shards of broken wood surrounding her, and an unconscious singer draped over her. For a moment, she lay there in shock, staring wide-eyed at the bright ceiling light.

Then she realized that the ropes had loosened, and that the table she was strapped to had split.

Wasting no time, Paula squirmed frantically. She freed herself from the strong, rough ropes and, without a backwards glance, ran out of the house screaming.

. . .

Noodle, Murdoc, and Russel arrived back at the house at 9pm. They had spent the evening at the supermarket, picking up some easy-to-cook meals which they thought 2D might actually be able to prepare somewhat properly. As they entered the house, Noodle pressed the grocery bags into Murdoc's hands, saying, "Murdoc, take these to the kitchen and put them away. While you're at it, check on 2D and see if he needs any help making dinner. Help him if he needs it."

Murdoc grimaced. "Why should I be the one to-"

"Do. It." Noodle hissed.

Murdoc gulped. There weren't many people who could strike fear into him (heck, he'd had dealings with the devil himself), but Noodle had a 100% success rate when it came to intimidating people, and Murdoc knew she was still angry at him for the whole _I-was-framed-by-El-Mierda_ incident. "Yes, mam," he conceded, cowering slightly as he accepted the grocery-filled bags. Noodle and Russel progressed towards the sitting room while Murdoc, grumbling, opened the door to the kitchen and stepped inside.

"Hey Faceache, we bought you some nice, easy- _WHAT THE…"_

Murdoc's jaw dropped as he took in the wrecked kitchen, the floor strewn with chunks of wood and coils of rope, heat streaming off of the oven as an unusually high temperature blinked off of the preheating screen, and a lanky man facing away from him, leaning against the countertop with his head down. The bassist's eye twitched. Tugging a finger at his collar, which was already slick with sweat from the too-warm kitchen, Murdoc began to growl, "I don't know how you managed to mess up cooking this badly, but Dullard, I swear, there better not be any permanent damage to my kitch-"

2D spun around sharply and Murdoc barely registered what what going on in time to dive out of the way of a knife flung at his head. Murdoc hit the floor, gazing up in shock at his bandmate. 2D wore an expression the bassist had never seen before on the man, an expression of such pure fury that it sent uncontrollable chills racing up the Satanist's spine. 2D had a knife in each hand and more knives were piled on the counter behind him.

Murdoc coughed nervously. "Ummm… 'D… What's going on in here?"

2D regarded the bassist with unreadable eyes. The man looked almost possessed as he stood there armed and rigid, his teeth bared, a stream of words beginning to hiss through his lips. "Dinner… ruined… all her fault…It was going to be wonderful, delicious… but she soiled it. soiled it! SOILED IT!"

"Whoa, calm down, buddy!" Murdoc soothed, wary of the knives clenched in the singer's white knuckles. "Whatever happened, I'm sure we can fix it. Ummm… What were you trying to cook?"

"Flesh… human flesh…" 2D murmured. "But to cook human flesh… I need a human sacrifice."

There weren't many people who could strike fear into Murdoc, and the usually-gentle singer is the last person anyone would have expected to make the demonic bassist do so much as flinch. But now, as the obviously not-quite-sane 2D loomed over the fallen man with knives in each hand and rambled about cooking human flesh, Murdoc realized that he had scarcely been so scared in his whole life. "'D, y-you look really s-stressed right now… Maybe you should let me make dinner for us tonight, eh? You can go watch TV with Noodle and Russel while I take care of everything! How does that sound?"

Murdoc felt his heart beat hard against his ribs as 2D regarded him with fathomless black eyes. The singer tilted his head to the side. His blades shifted ever so slightly so that Murdoc could see the blue-haired man's cold expression reflected in the shining steel. The bassist held his breath…

Slowly, 2D nodded. The knives slipped out of his hands and clattered to the floor. As if in a trance, the singer moved forward, stepped over the cowering Murdoc, and left the kitchen.

Murdoc let out a shaky sigh of relief. _I've got to be nicer to 2D in the future… I don't want to be around the next time he gets mad…_

 _. . ._

Russel turned his head as 2D entered the sitting room and plopped down onto the couch next to him. The drummer's brows furrowed in concern; the singer looked pale and dazed. "Hey, 'D, you all right man?"

2D nodded, turning to meet Russel's eyes with a small smile. "Yeah, I'm just a bit stressed. My dinner plans didn't turn out so good, but Murdoc said he'd take care of it. Remind me to thank him later, would you?"


	7. Chapter 7

**2D's 4** **th** **Attempt at Murder, Part 1**

2D desperately needed a reprieve from the noise in his head.

Blue hair ruffled as the singer brushed his fingers against his scalp, sighing as he failed to brush away the source of the heckling voices. They reverberated in his skull, fusing into a soup of confused words and phrases and making it rather hard for the man to think. He had enough trouble thinking when his mind was clear!

Two months ago, 2D had thought the voices were gone for good. Murdoc avoided him after the incident in the kitchen, leaving 2D un-bullied and carefree. All the whale pictures in the house disappeared and 2D found his missing wallet, with an apology note from Murdoc stuffed inside. The bassist even made meals for the rest of the band and would fetch 2D snacks from the kitchen so that the singer didn't have to make the trip himself. As much as the bassist's change in behavior confused 2D, he was perfectly content not to wonder about it and just be happy that things had changed for the better. Despite the fact that he had failed to cook Paula Cracker, 2D had succeeded in earning peace of mind.

Alas, it was only temporary.

In time, Murdoc drank away the memory of 2D's culinary episode and regained the confidence (and cockiness) of his former self. The whale pictures reappeared, 2D's wallet disappeared, and a trained raven would dive-bomb 2D's head every time he tried to leave the house. Soon enough, it was impossible to feel safe around Murdoc. Heck, 2D stopped feeling safe anywhere after he found a Shamu poster taped to the bathroom ceiling. As a result, the singer was more stressed than ever, and the voices of his crumbling sanity returned.

In the present, 2D hummed to himself as he strode down the hallway of the dilapidated house the band had taken up residence in. The voices had been growing in volume all evening, rising from a dormant hum before dinner to their current cackling and cawing. Humming, and occasionally singing snatches of songs to himself, had become a coping mechanism for 2D, meant to drown out the unwelcome voices as much as possible. However, even when he hummed his loudest, he could still hear the voices scoffing at his efforts, throwing insults at him to show how displeased they were at the state of the singer's life.

 _Miserable life… Pathetic weakling… He can't handle the stress, stress, stress, inescapable stress, it's going to eat him alive, eat him like a whale-_

"hummmmm, shutup shutup shutup, hummmmm-"

"HEY FACEACHE!"

2D jumped as a glass bottle shattered just behind his head, leaving shards buried in the moldy wallpaper. He quivered, keeping his head low as Murdoc ambled towards him, swaying with each drunken step.

"Quit that humming, it's getting on my nerves!"

2D nodded meekly, not wanting to invite more attention from the bassist. Murdoc grumbled something to himself before clomping away, stumbling slightly on a bump in the carpet. 2D turned to shuffle in the opposite direction and found himself in a dimly-lit room.

Against the far wall, a television glowed, casting pale, milky light upon the skin of the guitarist sprawled upon an overstuffed recliner. Noodle picked absentmindedly at a bowl of popcorn, her eyes following the figures on the screen. 2D, realizing that the tinny clamor of the TV would drown out his brain better than the silence of the hallway, decided to join Noodle in her movie night.

"Hey, Noods, wot'cha watching?" 2D asked, flopping onto a ratty gray futon.

"Coraline," Noodle replied, her gaze flicking to her bandmate before returning to the shining television screen.

2D stared at the screen, observing a claymation heroine interact with the other characters in her stop-motion world. 2D scrunched up his face, suddenly confused. "Hey, Noodle, how come some of those people have buttons instead of eyes?"

"Because it's an alternate universe," Noodle responded. "The main character, Coraline, has to choose whether she wants to go back to her world, where she feels ignored, or stay in the button-world, where everyone gives her more attention."

"What does she choose?"

"Keep watching and you'll find out."

The pair kept watching, although on 2D's end very little of the movie's plot was understood. The singer would occasionally ask Noodle questions ( _How can they see if their eyes aren't eyes? Why do the button-people like that Cory-line bird so much? Why are all the characters in this movie made of clay; couldn't they afford real people?)_ and Noodle became more and more irate as the interruptions continued. Within the next ten minutes her responses to 2D's questions went from being patient and descriptive to snarky and brusque.

"Hey, hey Noodle, that kid's got his mouth stitched shut, shouldn't he be in a bunch of pain?"

"You'll be in pain if you don't be quiet and let me watch the movie."

"How's that guy going to eat, though?"

"He'll drink blended food through a straw, just like you will when I break your jaw after your next stupid question."

"Why'd they stitch his mouth shut anyway?"

"Because when the sound of someone's voice irritates you enough, you'll do whatever you can to make them SHUT UP."

2D frowned, remembering the voices murmuring in the corridors of his mind. "But what if a voice doesn't have a mouth? How do you make it shut up then?"

Noodle, reasoning that 2D might be quiet if she stopped answering his questions, didn't respond.

2D's grimace deepened as he sunk into thought. _Noodle must not know the answer… But she's the smartest person I know! If she doesn't know how to make a voice with no mouth shut up, then maybe it's impossible…_ Sighing, 2D let his head droop. _Does this mean I'm stuck with these stupid voices? They're driving me crazy!_

2D felt himself growing more and more frustrated. Suddenly, the television wasn't noisy enough to drown out the voices. He could hear them cutting through his mind, quipping and sneering, growing louder and louder. The man's heartbeat rose, and his breathing became shallow. He could feel his neck becoming slick with sweat and his shirt sticking to his back. His vision swam, and he couldn't see the television anymore. Instead, images flashed across his mind: Murdoc's cruel sneer, a framed picture of a whale, a broken bottle, a wrecked kitchen after a failed meal…

 _I think I'm going mad_ , 2D thought to himself as he rapidly lost control over his vision. Noodle and the television might as well be miles away; all he could see were the pictures his traitorous mind offered him, all he could hear were the voices which shouted and jeered, and all he could feel were the cold fingers of anxiety pawing at his skin like zombies, scraping into his flesh and tearing at his soul. There was no escape from the feeling. No escape from the madness. 2D moaned in agony, pressing the heel of his hand into his forehead.

Noodle's voice pierced through the clamor like an arrow.

"2D, if you're having a headache, you should go to bed."

"I can't!" 2D whined miserably, wrapping his fingers over his ears. "Nothing's going to get better until I know how to stop voices with no mouths!"

Noodle quirked an eyebrow at the singer. "2D, every voice has a mouth. You need only to find out where - or what - it is."

The voices in his head stilled for a moment, as if to listen to Noodle's wisdom. Warily, 2D lifted his gaze to meet hers. "Every voice has a mouth?"

"Yes. Now either got to bed or shut up and watch the movie."

"But how do I find the mouth?" 2D pressed eagerly. The voices held their breaths.

"From my experience, the mouth is usually attached to the most annoying imbecile in the room," Noodle snarked.

"So the mouth is always attached to a person?"

"Yes. An annoying one."

"But how do I figure out who-"

She was as fast as a ninja, and 2D didn't have time to blink before Noodle appeared in front of him, a katana pointed at his throat. "One more word," She hissed, "and your voice ends with your life."

2D nodded, his lips squeezed shut.

Noodle backed up a step, giving 2D room to move. "You have a headache, and you're going to bed. You have ten seconds to leave this room and let me watch my movie in peace."

2D leaped off the futon with every intention of obeying Noodle's command.

He tripped over a lump in the carpet and careened forward, landing heavily on top of the DVD player. A loud _CRACK_ resounded through the room and the movie turned into static.

For a moment, the world held its breath.

"Hey, Noods, mind if I join – oh…" Russel appeared at the entrance of the living room and was met by the sight of 2D laying on top of a destroyed DVD player and Noodle standing still as stone, her eyes beginning to glaze over in a fiery red rage. Realizing that the guitarist was about to explode, Russel swiftly intervened, "Hey, uh, Noodle, why don't you let 2D slip away so that he can order you a new DVD player? You and I can spend the night catching up on those episodes of the X-Files I saved onto the DVR; how's that sound?"

Noodle turned slowly to look at Russel, and 2D took the opportunity to crawl away. As he sneaked out of the room on his hands and knees, the frightened singer found that one of Russel's comments was echoing in his mind:

 _You and I can spend the night catching up on those episodes of the X-Files…_

 _Those episodes of the X…_

 _The X.. The X…_

 _The ex._

. . .

Later that night, as 2D lied in bed trying to ignore the voices, it hit him.

The voices.

The mouth.

The ex.

A Claymation character with his mouth sewn shut.

Noodle and Coraline had taught 2D how to make someone shut up.

Russel had subtly told 2D who was responsible for the voices, and who he needed to silence to make the voices stop.

Now, all that was left to do was decide how he was going to corner Paula Cracker this time.

And, of course, to ask Russel if he could borrow his sewing kit.

. . .

 **Guess who's coming back for the kill? IT'S PSYCHO 2D! How will our favorite crazy singer pull off his latest idea to silence Paula for good? Will Paula be able to escape this nefarious plot unscathed? Stay tuned to find out!**


	8. Chapter 8

**2D's 4** **th** **Attempt at Murder, Part 2**

"Paula, this is stupid!"

"Oh, give it a rest already."

"I seriously can't believe you're even considering this."

"Why wouldn't I? It's free!"

Paula Cracker's roommate, Casey, slapped a hand to her forehead. "Don't you remember what happened last time someone invited you to get free stuff? You came back covered in bruises and mud!"

Paula huffed, rolling her eyes. "That time was different."

"Oh yeah?" Casey raised an eyebrow. "How so?"

"That invitation was obviously creepy. It told me to find _champagne_ in a _graveyard_. It reeked of weirdness." Paula flourished a colorful cardstock invitation in one hand. " _This_ invitation, on the other hand, is completely legitimate. It's a simple offer to visit a new tattoo & piercing shop in town and get a free piercing or tat."

"And _why_ would a business want to give random people free piercings and tattoos?" Casey quipped.

"It's probably a publicity stunt. You know, they give me a tattoo, I post a picture of it on social media and tell people how great the shop is, then they get more business."

"So instead of finding someone with an actual social media following who's posted about tattoos and piercings before, they've sought out _you,_ who only uses Facebook to complain about how underpaid you are and whose only audience is her mother?"

Paula's face turned red. "Hey, I have more followers than just my mother. I was in a famous band, you know!"

"You mean, you were in a band for a month or two _before_ it got famous?"

" _Shut up!"_

Casey smirked. "And now you try to get back at the band that ousted you by telling people that their singer tried to kill you?"

" _Three times!_ He tried to kill me _three times!"_

"Yeah. Right." Casey droned.

"And he might try to kill me again!"

"Sure he will."

Paula fumed. "He's an absolute maniac. And nobody believes me!"

"You're really hung up on this ex of yours, aren't you?"

Paula gaped. "I am NOT 'hung up' on him!" she seethed.

"Then why do you keep talking about him?" Casey retorted.

"BECAUSE HE KEEPS TRYING TO KILL ME!"

"You'd think, if someone were trying to hide from a potential killer, she wouldn't accept invitations to suspicious giveaways."

"Well, I can't put my life on hold forever!" Paula snapped. "Besides, this opportunity is too good to miss! I've been meaning to get a new piercing, one of those eyebrow ones my cousin has. Now I won't have to pay for it!"

"What did you say the shop's name was again?" Casey questioned.

Paula squinted at the card. "Bloodbath & Body Works."

"Sounds a bit creepy, don't you think?" Casey suggested.

Paula scowled. "Not as creepy as _your face._ "

Casey's eye twitched. "You know what? I don't even care. You want to go to a creepy tattoo parlor and get conned by whatever scammer sent you that invitation? Be my guest. It doesn't affect me."

Paula picked up an umbrella and slipped on her shoes. Grinning, she said, "When I get back, I'll have a fantastic piercing. Maybe I'll bring you back a coupon."

"I hope you get robbed and all your piercings get infected." Casey groused.

"I hope every piercing place you ever go to charges you double." Paula responded sweetly before grabbing her purse and heading out the door.

"Idiot," Casey grumbled as the door shut behind her roommate.

. . .

Paula marched down the street, her shoes splashing through shallow puddles, her eyes skimming over the various colorful shops lining the walkway. People drifted like clouds between the diverse collection of cafes, sweet shops, hair salons, beauty supply stores, and other establishments, shopping bags tucked beneath their raincoats and umbrellas as a misty drizzle fell upon them. Paula twirled her own red umbrella, excitement brimming in her chest.

 _I wonder what kind of services this tattoo & piercing place has to offer, _Paula thought. _I had my heart set on an eyebrow piercing, but if they have any specialty piercings, I might have to try them out! Especially if they're usually expensive!_ Paula's grin stretched wide. _Yeah, I'm definitely going with something expensive! Unless it's something ridiculous, of course._

Pulling her hand out of her coat pocket, Paula pulled out the invitation she had found in the mail two days before. Framed in magenta, a white box full of swirling multicolor script read: _ONE DAY ONLY! You, Paula Cracker, have been selected to receive one tattoo or piercing free of charge! Stop by BLOODBATH & BODY WORKS, 5_ _th_ _Street Suite 37 C, THIS SATURDAY to claim your prize!_

Even as the warm glow of joy perforated her mind, Paula felt a cool tinge of misgiving in the back of her brain. _What if Casey was right?_ She thought. _Free stuff is always a little bit suspicious… what if I'm making a mistake?_ _This could be another trap!_

Paula paused, biting her lip. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong about all of this. Her feet shifted, stirring the waters of a small puddle which swirled with traces of mud. She looked down, remembering the fear and distress of her last encounter with her deranged former boyfriend…

Paula shook her head and kept walking.

 _I'm just nervous because I've been through a lot lately,_ she reasoned. _I deserve a break from all this stress and worrying. I deserve to treat myself!_ Paula gazed forward firmly, a spark in her eyes. _I'm going to get that piercing!_

After another minute of walking, Paula arrived at a small, neat shop with the title _Bloodbath & Body Works _gleaming over it in stylized neon letters. Strewn across the shining glass windows was a thick layer of posters depicting a bounty of unique piercings and elegant tattoos.

Paula smiled. _This place looks perfectly normal!_ She felt a sense of pride and satisfaction as she noticed a sign reading _PRIZE RECIPIENTS ONLY TODAY_ hanging over the door. Her confidence rising, she pushed the door open. Doorbells chimed as she entered the shop.

The first thing she noticed as she entered was how empty it was. Paula shook off her umbrella and set it down on a nearby waiting chair, stepping slowly towards the front register. _I guess there aren't many other prize recipients._ She peered behind the desk, sizing up the array of empty chairs and still tools. _Where are all the employees?_

"Hello?" She called.

"Just a minute, ma'am!" spoke a muffled voice from the back of the shop.

As Paula watched, a tall figure stepped out from a door in the back of the shop. The figure was almost completely covered, a black beanie shielding their hair, a surgical mask over their mouth and a very large pair of tinted goggles obscuring their eyes. The rest of their body was hidden behind a thick gray turtleneck, blue jeans, black boots, and a pair of blue latex gloves.

 _The shop owner looks pretty eccentric,_ Paula mused. _Oh well… Lots of tattoo and piercing artists are eccentric._ Paula's brow furrowed. _Then again, you'd think they'd want to show off some tats or piercings, just to prove that they know their craft._

"Welcome to Bloodbath & Body Works!" The figure spoke. Paula made out that it was a man's voice, but it was so muffled that she wouldn't have been surprised if there was an extra layer of fabric inside his mask. "You must be one of our free piercing or tattoo recipients! What's your name?"

"Paula Cracker."

"Ah, yes! Paula! Congratulations on winning a free service from my shop! Would you follow me to the back? I've got a nice, big chair you can sit in while I work!"

"Shouldn't we talk about what sort of piercing or tattoo I want first?" Paula asked.

"Of course! I've got a stack of pictures of our services next to the chair in the back, and I can talk you through our special piercing selection once we get there!"

 _Special selection!_ Paula grinned. _I like the sound of that!_

The thickly-clothed man waved her behind the desk, his tall frame swaying as he led the way to the back. Paula followed eagerly, her eyes gleaming as she wondered what exclusive, expensive piercings she might have to choose from.

Through the door in the back of the shop was a small, cozy room with a large, padded chair, similar to one that might be found in a dentist's office. Settling into the chair, Paula was pleased to find that it was extremely comfortable, much more comfortable than the seating she had endured in other, less classy, tattoo & piercing parlors.

"We usually only use this chair for more extreme body art, but since you're the only one here right now and it's so comfortable, I thought I might as well let you use it!" The man spoke cheerfully. "By the way, the chair comes with comfort straps to help clients relax and hold them still so that I can make accurate piercings." The man held up a set of classy looking leather straps. "If you don't mind, I'll go ahead and put them on now, so that we can make sure they fit and so that I won't have to run to the closet later to find a different set."

"Go ahead," Paula said absentmindedly, still daydreaming about her dream piercings. She barely felt the man securing the straps around her arms and legs. When he placed straps around her waist, a distant sense of oddness crept into the back of her mind, but it was overlooked as Paula visualized an intricate set of tongue and lip piercings.

It wasn't until the man wound straps around her forehead and neck that Paula was roused from her tantalizing thoughts.

"Hey…" Paula began, shifting uncomfortably as a strap rubbed her throat. "Isn't this a bit… umm… excessive?"

"Each of these straps is completely necessary," the man replied, tightening one of her waist straps and making her gasp slightly.

"I think that one's a bit tight," she wheezed.

"The tighter the better!" The man cheered. "I can't have you moving around while I work!"

 _I guess that makes sense,_ Paula thought skeptically. _But this neck strap isn't exactly comfortable…_

"Now that you're all strapped in, would you like to hear about the piercing you'll be receiving?"

Paula frowned. "You mean, the piercings I have to choose from?"

The man chuckled. "Nope. I've already decided what piercing you're going to get. Don't worry; it's a good one!"

Paula's eyes stretched wide. "What do you mean, you've already decided? That doesn't make any sense!"

The man tilted his head. "What doesn't make sense about it?"

"I should get to choose my free piercing!" Paula snapped. "Just like the invitation said! I get to choose a free tattoo or piercing!"

"No, no, no." The man responded, shaking his head. "The invitation said that you get to _receive_ a free tattoo or piercing. It didn't say you'd get to choose."

Paula jerked, trying to pull her arms free from the 'comfort straps.' They held her tightly, not budging at all. "That's it; I'm out of here! Let me out of these straps! I don't want your stupid piercings. I just want to go home and leave this place a bad review on Yelp!"

"Well, that wouldn't be very nice," the man said. "It wouldn't be fair to leave a bad review for this place because of me. I don't actually work here. I'm just borrowing this shop for the day."

"You're BORROWING a shop?" Paula croaked in disbelief.

"Yep. I made a deal with the shop owner. I get to borrow her shop for the day, and in return, I'm going to drop a comment about how great the place is on social media. She seemed pretty excited about the deal; said it would be great for business since my band's got loads of followers."

For a few moments, the room was silent.

Paula stared at the man, unblinking.

"Your… _band_?"

Slowly, the man removed his beanie, revealing a headful of startlingly blue hair. He removed his facemask, unveiling a gap-toothed grin. Finally, he removed his tinted goggles and stared at her with his jet-black eyes.

"Surprise!" He cried. "It's 2D! I need your help with my therapy again!"

Paula thrashed, straining against the tough leather straps. "No! NO! Get these things off me! Let me OUT!"

2D frowned. "Please don't make this hard for me, Paula. You know my coordination isn't that good. If you don't hold still, I might end up poking your eye out while I'm trying to stitch your lips shut."

"While you're trying to WHAT!?" Paula screamed.

"See, I got the idea from this movie Noodle was watching. I think it was called Cory-line. See, these people solved all their problems by sewing! Everybody had buttons on their eyes, and one kid even had his lips sewn shut! So then I was thinking about all the mean voices inside my head, and Noodle said something about all voices having mouths, but when I tried to ask more questions she pulled her katana on me, then I tripped over a DVD player and smashed her movie. She was really mad! If Russel hadn't been there to save me, she might've –"

"WHAT HAS ANY OF THIS GOT TO DO WITH ME?" Paula screeched.

2D smiled. "I figured out that your mouth is connected to all the mean voices in my head! If I stitch it shut, the voices will go away!" He announced triumphantly.

Paula's struggles increased; she thrashed wildly like a fish in a net. "Do you have any idea what you're doing!?" she said. "This is crazy!"

"It's not _crazy,_ " 2D insisted with an eye roll. "It's _therapeutic!_ " Suddenly, his face brightened. "Ooh, and I thought it might be fun to go all out with the Cory-line theme, so I brought this lovely pair of buttons to stitch over your eyes!" The excited man held up to shiny plastic buttons, one sunshine yellow, the other vivid magenta.

"I DON'T WANT YOUR STUPID BUTTONS!" Paula cried. "I WANT TO GO HOME!"

2D sniffed sadly. "Don't call my buttons stupid! It hurts my feelings!"

"I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOUR STUPID FEELINGS, OR YOUR STUPID BUTTONS, OR YOUR STUPID THERAPY! LEAVE ME OUT OF IT! LET ME GO!"

2D grimaced. "You've never been supportive of me. I think that might be why it never worked between us. Well, that and the whole thing with Murdoc…"

Paula could feel fear coursing through her blood, her heart beating too quickly, too painfully in her chest. "You know, if you go through with this, I'll finally have evidence that you're out to get me! The police will have to believe what I tell them after this!"

2D's mouth formed a small grin. "Well, you won't be able to tell them anything after I've sown your mouth shut!

Off a nearby desk, 2D seized a long, sharp needle, pre-threaded with strong-looking black twine.

Paula blanched. "You can't do this," she cried. "You can't!"

"Hold still, won't you?" 2D requested. He leaned over Paula. She felt one of his warm hands press against the strap on her forehead, pushing her head into the seat. His face came close to hers, his dark eyes squinting as they roved over her glossy, red lips. Sticking his tongue out the side of his mouth, he brought the needle to the corner of her mouth. Paula was paralyzed with fear. She felt cold sweat running down her back as the icy tip of the needle pressed into her skin –

The doorbell chimed.

2D groaned in exasperation.

The man backed away from the chair. He deposited his needle and thread on a nearby table and picked up a roll of duct tape. "I'm going to need you to stay quiet back here while I take care of these customers," 2D sighed, unrolling a stretch of tape. "Don't worry, I'll be right back."

. . .

A small boy, about 5 years old, scuffed his shoes against the ground as he followed his stepfather and stepsister into _Bloodbath and Body Works._ He glanced curiously at the pictures of tattoo art hanging on the walls as his step-relatives argued.

"I don't see why you had to pick this place –"

"Daddy, it's where all of my friends got their tattoos on their sixteenth birthdays!"

"I know, dear, but the name – _Bloodbath?_ It's just not very professional! I'm still not sure that 16 is really old enough to be getting your first tattoo…"

"You _promised,_ daddy!"

"Yes… _*sigh*…_ Yes I did…"

The boy looked up as a door squeaked open from the back of the shop. The man who stepped out from the door looked very interesting, with his tinted goggles, pale facemask, and a beanie covering the top half of his head. "Hey, dad, if I become a tattoo-person when I grow up, will I get to look cool like that guy?"

"You'd look cooler as a lawyer, son." His step-dad said, eying the tall man nervously.

"I'm sorry, you guys," The man said in a muffled voice. "The shop is closed today. You'll have to come back tomorrow for whatever you want."

The boy's stepfather looked relieved. "Well, that settles it! No tattoos today, honey, so sorry to disappoint you on your birthday –"

The teenaged girl stomped her foot on the ground. "NO! My birthday is TODAY, and I'm getting my first tattoo NOW!" She squealed.

"Now, now, sweetie –"

"NOW, NOW, NOW!"

"Ma'am, today really just isn't a good day for this –"

"IF I DON'T GET THIS TATTOO TODAY, MY SOCIAL LIFE WILL BE RUINED!"

The boy zoned out as the two adults tried to talk his stepsister out of her temper. He knew from experience that it would be at least a full half-hour before she stopped squealing. Gazing around the parlor, the boy's eyes landed on the door that the tall, cool-looking man had come through. He wondered what was inside. More cool goggles? Another beanie? The possibilities were endless!

He might as well check and see if it was locked.

The small child was ignored as he wandered to the back of the shop. He placed a hand on the cool doorknob and was pleased when it turned easily in his small hands. Glancing back towards his family and the tall man, the boy secretively inched the door open, slipped inside, and closed the door behind him, his eyes never leaving the adults until the door shielded them, and himself, from sight.

The boy turned to survey the room.

 _Wow… this room is even cooler than I thought!_

In the center of the room, a struggling woman was strapped tightly to a thick, heavy chair. When she saw the boy, she began grunting frantically, the duct tape on her mouth preventing more sophisticated communication.

The boy looked on in wonder. Maybe the tall man wasn't a tattoo person at all… Maybe he was a spy! This lady strapped to the chair probably had information about some secret organization that the man was trying to shake out of her! That's why the man was wearing all those things on his face – to protect his identity!

Or maybe… This woman was the spy!

The woman stared at him, struggling desperately against her bonds.

Well, there was only one way to figure things out!

The boy approached the chair. He had to reach up above his head to reach the woman's face, but he was soon able to grasp the end of the duct tape and rip it off her mouth.

" _Ow –_ Hey, kid! You have to help me get out of here, quick! Get these straps off me!"

"Are you a spy?" the boy asked.

" _What!?"_ The woman responded.

"Is the tall man a spy?"

"Kid, what are you talking about?"

"Are you a part of a secret evil organization?"

"If anyone in this building is evil, it's the maniac who put me in this chair!"

Ah, so the tall man was the evil one.

"So you're the good guy?"

The woman rolled her eyes. "Yes, I'm the good guy! Now get these straps off me!"

The boy spotted a buckle on the woman's nearest arm strap and started working on it. "My name is Jimmy. After I help you get out of here, will you tell the government to hire me as a spy? I think I want to be a spy when I grow up."

"Sure, kid."

The boy took off the straps on her arm and moved on to her head. "My stepsister is here too, but she shouldn't be a spy. She would squeal to much and give away my position."

"That's great, kid."

"My stepdad wouldn't be a very good spy either. He's a scaredy-cat. He would blab government secrets to all the bad guys."

"Whatever."

"Do you know any government secrets?"

"Nothing I can tell you."

"Come on, I'm saving you! You've got to tell me something!"

"Fine. Umm… being evil makes your hair turn blue."

"Cool," the boy said. He wasn't sure that he could believe her, but then again, he did have a mean cousin who dyed his hair blue.

"Would you hurry up, kid?"

"I'm going as fast as I can."

Two minutes later, the boy removed the final strap from the mysterious spy woman's ankle.

"Thanks, kid," The woman said. "Your country appreciates your service. Now, if you don't mind, I have to get going." The woman inhaled a deep breath, unleashed a blood-curdling scream, and barreled out the small room's door.

The boy rushed through the door behind her. He saw his family's jaws drop as the screaming lady rushed past them, pushed the front doors so hard that they shattered, and sprinted into the streets. Pride swelled in the boy's small chest. He had just rescued a spy!

The boy's stepsister was silent. His stepfather began to stammer, "Wh-wha… What was that all about?"

The tall man sighed. "Her? Oh, she was just nervous about getting her next piercing. She must have changed her mind about it."

The tall man scratched his head. The boy saw the man's beanie lift beneath his fingers, revealing fronds of vivid blue hair

 _Being evil makes your hair turn blue…_

The boy screamed and ran out the door.

"Jimmy, come back!" His stepfather shouted before running out the door after him.

"Wait, daddy! You need to pay for my tattoo!" The teen darted after her family.

2D stood alone in the empty shop. _What a weird family,_ he thought. Bowing his head, he let out a long, sad sigh. _I guess I'm not getting my therapy today,_ he mused forlornly. _Maybe I'm not cut out for doing piercings._

 _Don't worry,_ the voices in his head whispered back. _We'll make a better plan next time._

. . .

 **It's not murder, but having your mouth sewn shut is still pretty scary, right?**

 **Stay tuned! Who knows when 2D's murderous tendencies will strike again!?**


End file.
